Incubation
by Imageination
Summary: "On this planet, you call females who are yet to become adults 'girls'. It makes sense, then, that since you'll eventually become witches, you should be called 'magical girls'".


_Beep beep.  
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" _Attention, passengers,_ " a female, impassively pleasant voice chimed through the airplane cabin's audio systems, " _We have now arrived in Mitakhaira City Airport. Thank you for flying with us. Enjoy your stay in Japan, and we hope you find a reason to fly with us again._ "

"Wake up, Vivi. We're here."

At her father's beckoning, Genevieve Aldecott stirred in her seat, yawning and rubbing the cobwebs from her eyes, brushing her hair from her face. Her back was stiff and tight from sleeping in a chair, but she'd needed the rest. The flight to Japan from the United States had been a long and tiring one, and there was still plenty of activity left to get done in the hours to come.

Rising from her chair, Genevieve waded into the crowded river that was the aisle between the seats, retrieving her backpack from the overhead storage before following her parents off the plane. Immediately, she was blinded by the rays of sun that greeted her on the gangway leading to solid ground- contrasting sharply with the relative darkness of the cabin. Mitakhaira, her family's destination, loomed in the distance, a seemingly endless sea of block-shaped buildings that stood dozens of stories tall. It reminded her of trips to San Francisco, only less like home. Genevieve sighed at the memory of "home", reminding herself that _this_ was home now.

She passed through the next hour in an almost robotic trance- collecting luggage, buying last-minute souvenirs from the overpriced airport shops, and hailing down a taxi to take them to their destination- the home of her maternal grandmother, Noriko Tatsuki.

As the taxi sped through the crowded streets of Mitakhaira, Genevieve spent the trip with her face glued to the window, trying to drink in what would become her home. Particular landmarks included the enormous multi-story shopping mall (which her mother cooed that they would buy her so many nice clothes in) and the school she would start attending in only a few weeks, which was ever blockier in shape than the others buildings, with oblong shapes sticking out of the architecture at irregular intervals, and lots of massive glass windows that allowed streams of sunlight to make their way into the currently-abandoned building. Genevieve sighed again. The point of this exercise, to ingratiate herself with her new home city, was proving fruitless. But both her parents continued chatting and smiling, as if they failed to notice her demeanor. No matter- they would be at her grandmother's home soon.

Grandmother's home was just outside the heavy urban district of Mitakhaira, when the endless maze of concrete and glass gave way to quieter stretches of tree-lined streets that hid suburban homes beneath their branches. Her house was one such home- a warm, two-storied, cream-colored house with a small red car parked in the driveway. All that was nice, but Genevieve had barely stepped out of the taxi before she saw the garden.

It filled the lawn on either side of the walkway to the front lawn. There were plants of every genus and species- vegetables and fruit trees intermingled with flowers and ornamentals in a seemingly chaotic but still gorgeous harmony. Even more plants grew in boxes on the windowsills. Everywhere Genevieve looked, there was a burst of color. Her hands twitched, feeling subconsciously for the gardener's gloves she normally wore when facing a beautiful garden like this.

Seeing her expression, a mix of shock and awe, Genevieve's mother, Aki Aldecott, smiled warmly, doing away with the meaningless pleasant grin she had worn on the entire trip here, even back in America. "If you're impressed by this," she said, setting a hand on Genevieve's shoulder, "wait until you see the backyard. My grandmother was more than a bit of a gardening nut, back before... Back before she got sick." She swallowed hard after that last sentence.

Paying the cabbie, Genevieve's father Thomas Aldecott joined the two women in admiring the house. Their bags and suitcases were lined up on the sidewalk beside them- not as much as there probably should have been, but airline shipping costs were steep, so the rest of their belongings that hadn't been sold to make the move easier were being shipped oversees in a cargo plane later this month. For now, they would have to make do with what they had brought with them. "Are we ready to go inside?" Thomas asked. Met by a pair of nods, he gathered up the luggage and divvied it out before leading the march to the front door and knocking.

It was a long time before the door swung open, held in place by a warmly smiling Noriko. "Welcome to Japan! Did you have a nice flight?" She asked in accented Japanese, which Genevieve just barely managed to understand. She had been practicing the language hard since becoming aware of the move, and her mother had pitched in to help, but even now she still wasn't quite fluent.

Aki answered in the affirmative, and after being let inside they all took turns hugging Grandmother. It was only at this point that Genevieve realized just how frail Noriko was- her arms were skeletal thin, and her tan skin was wrinkled and patchy in numerous places. She walked in a stumbling gait, and being hugged like her felt like being hit by a light breeze. Genevieve's parents had said that Grandmother was sick- quite clearly, they'd been under- exaggerating.

That was the reason they were here, after all. Grandmother had fallen ill in the past few months, and the doctor had not given her much longer to live. Sadly, she was no longer able to provide for herself physically- nor did she have the money to afford a regular caregiver. Refusing the requests of Aki, her only child, to move to the United States and stay with them in California, Noriko had stated that she wished to die in the same house that she had grown up in. In the end, they had compromised, with Genevieve's family moving to Japan to care for her in her final days. The exact amount of time they would be staying had not been identified at the inception of this plan, and nor had it ever been. Genevieve had spent many nights staying up late in her room, listening to her parents arguing over the situation. However, they presented nothing but a cheerful front when she asked them about it later. As usual.

"Thank you for coming so far and caring so much." Grandmother said, leading them into her quiet but cozy home. "I appreciate it greatly."

"It was no trouble at all, Mother." Aki responded, kicking off her shoes and giving Grandmother another one of her fake grins. Genevieve frowned inwardly, but was careful not to show it on the outside. She had to be supportive- or at least act it- for her parents' sake.

"How was the trip across the Pacific, darling?" Grandmother asked. It took Genevieve a few awkward moments to realize she was the one being addressed.

"Fine." She answered noncommittally, her attention already having moved elsewhere. On the far side of the room, a massive window revealed a panoramic view of Grandmother's backyard. It was, indeed, even more colorful and glorious than the front yard. Her hands twitched once more, this time actively yearning for her gardening gloves. In the background, her grandmother chuckled softly at the sight.

"I told you she would love it." Grandmother said, earning a good-natured eye roll from Aki.

* * *

As her parents set down to the work of unpacking the luggage and getting everything settled, Genevieve remained at the window, drinking in the sight of the garden. For a brief moment, she thought she saw something of a pure white color darting among the shrubbery, but it was gone a moment later.

It took some time, but they were eventually more-or-less settled. Her father was still looking for a job; it was rapidly growing apparent that a technologically progressive city like Mitakhaira had little use for traditional metalworkers. Her mother, who had already found a job teaching English at the local high school- she had done the opposite for American students back in the States- spent her days buying new clothes for herself and Genevieve when she wasn't adding her own 'personal touches' to Grandmother's 'archaic' space. Grandmother herself was in no small amount of huff and bluster over that.

Genevieve, on the other hand, when she wasn't helping her parents or busily studying Japanese for the upcoming school year, was hard at work in the garden, which had begun to fall into decline after months without Grandmother's attentions. She spent hours, virtually every single day, under the baking hot sun, pulling weeds, watering plants, gathering produce, spreading mulch and fertilizer, digging out new plots, and so much more. Under the care of her loving hands, the garden flourished ever more, and every day she returned inside with a basket of apples, an armful of vegetables, or whatever bunch of colorful flowers she thought would look good on display in the dining table's vase.

Grandmother, when she could, came out to help, even if was just to watch and give a little bit of helpful advice here and there. Genevieve's initial conception of her frailty had been a little exaggerated- despite her sickness, Grandmother was still quite active. She cleaned the house, washed the family's clothes, and cooked homemade meals nightly whenever her health allowed. Mage and Genevieve spent many an afternoon talking in the garden, talking about each other, themselves, the garden, and nothing at all. Of course, there were just as many bad days as good ones, if not more, when Grandmother was confined to her room, too weak to walk much farther than the bathroom, and sometimes not even that much. On days like this, Genevieve would often see Noriko simply lying back in bed, staring lovingly at the rosebush that grew just outside her window. It was a gorgeous rosebush for sure, with innumerable full blossoms and healthy, green shoots. Genevieve payed extra attention to make sure it stayed healthy- and that Grandmother did too.

On one or two occasions, she caught another glimpse of the white flash from the very first day in Mitakhaira, but never managed to see it in detail. Genevieve had managed to convince herself that it was a cat who had taken a liking to the garden- but if she was honest with herself, she wasn't entirely sure of that assumption at all.

* * *

It was on the first day of school when things started to go wrong.

The day had started simply enough. Finding her locker had been easy, and before long she had found her seat in homeroom and was waiting for the teacher to arrive. The teacher introduced her to the class in the customary fashion, and afterwards the period passed quietly- it was afterwards that difficulties started to arise. Almost immediately, Genevieve found herself swarmed by the girls of the class. They quickly deluged her in a barrage of questions.

"Where did you come from, Genevieve-chan?" "I heard that you live in the suburban part of town, is that right?" "Are you good at track and field, Genevieve-chan?"

She batted away their questions as best she could, giving noncommittal answers that still acknowledged their inquiries. Genevieve appreciated their curiosity, but she honestly wasn't in the mood to meet so many new people at once. The last few days had been more than hectic, and she honestly just needed a break. Eventually, thankfully, the other girls took the hint and left her alone. At the same time, it wasn't long before Genevieve heard their muffled whispers and felt their watching eyes boring like drills into her back when they thought she wasn't looking. Word traveled quickly, and by lunchtime she was earning suspicious glances from half the student body.

Genevieve didn't care. If she was honest with herself, it had been the exact same way back in California- and yet, she still didn't care. She didn't need any of this- any of _them_. All she needed was her parents, and Grandmother. And the garden. If she had that, she would be happy.

Aside from the eyes and whispers, the rest of the school day passed uneventfully, and soon Genevieve was on her way home, school bag bouncing leisurely against her side. She walked down a path that was flanked by a sea of green trees on one side and a placid, sky-blue river on the other. It was a little out of her way home, but the path had looked so pleasant when she had passed it early that morning that she had resolved to walk on it on the way home. Closing her eyes, Genevieve drank in the sounds of _quiet_ \- birds chirping, the rustling of leaves, water slapping oh-so-gently against the shore- and smiled contentedly to herself. If Mitakhaira had pleasant spots like this, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live here after all.

The rest of the journey home was a peaceful fifteen-minute trek through the suburbs, but as Genevieve came into sight of Grandmother's house, she was immediately struck by a feeling of foreboding, a feeling of something just plain _wrong_. Grandmother's car was missing from the driveway, and a general gloom pervaded the entire front of the house- even the shade cast by the nearby trees seems wrong somehow. Increasing the speed of her walk, Genevieve almost ran to the front door, thrusting her key in the lock and shoving the door open with near-reckless abandon. "Mom? Dad? Grandmother?" She called into the house, running down the hall without even stopping to take off her shoes.

The kitchen was dark, and her father sat at the counter, hands formed into a pyramid below his chin, staring off into space. He seemed to barely even notice her entrance. "Father? Are you alright? What happened? Where are Mom and Grandmother?" She asked each question in a nonstop flurry, fighting down an irrational sense of panic "Dad, please! Please answer me!"

"It's all alright, Vivi, it's all alright." His words had an almost dreamlike quality to them, like he was attempting to reach her through some sort of fugue. "Your grandmother is just a little sick, a little more sick than usual. Your mother is there with her, and the doctors say she'll be all better soon." His words _should_ have carried a pleasant, reassuring tone, but now they only sounded mechanical, as if he didn't really believe what he himself was saying.

Genevieve reached out a hand to put on her father's shoulder, retracted it, then repeated the motion only to pull back her hand once more. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend what he'd just said. Grandmother was in the hospital, that much was clear, but what had happened? She might have had a heart attack- Mom had once offhandedly said that Noriko had always had a weak heart, even before she'd gotten sick. Genevieve's mind replayed images of the last few weeks, how Grandmother had seemed so strong at times and so fragile simultaneously. She thought of their quiet talks of the garden, how she had vented her frustrations about her parents, and Grandmother had listened and nodded and never said a word to contradict her. She remembered...

No. It was too much, all too much. Genevieve ran, she didn't know where, she just had to get away from that dark kitchen and her blank-faced father with his empty reassurances. The next few moments were a blur of movement as Genevieve ran without thinking, letting her body run on autopilot. When she was finally thinking coherently again, she was standing in front of the rosebush below Grandmother's window, gardening gloves and pruning tools in hand.

That's right. Grandmother's prize rosebush, the one she spent every day in bed staring at like it was gold. Genevieve had been neglecting it for the past few days, too busy preparing in the mad dash to be ready for school to tend to the bush. Quietly, she set about her work, watering, pruning the bushes, snipping off dead blossoms, even putting down an extra layer of mulch at the base of the plant. All the while, Genevieve hummed a nonsense melody in her head, trying to drown out the thoughts of that dark house and the grandmother who wasn't there.

She stood up, stretching, admiring her work, then frowned to herself. Despite Genevieve's best efforts, the rosebush still didn't look... right. It wasn't good enough. She could trim and water and fertilize all she wanted, but a nasty part of Genevieve's subconscious told her that it would never be quite enough effort for Grandmother's prize rosebush. And the thought hung in the back of her mind that winter was coming- the flowers would die, and then Noriko would have nothing left to see out her window. Genevieve resented her grandmother for dragging her family to Japan, but she still couldn't wish that fate on the old woman.

 _It seems that you have potential for a wish, Genevieve Aldecott._

Genevieve whirled at the sound of the voice- childish, and vaguely masculine. From her perspective the garden was empty, nothing but rows and rows of plants. Where had it come from? She hadn't heard anyone walking across the grass, and the idea that someone had managed to sneak up on her terrified Genevieve. But who was the voice's identity?

 _Down here._

Genevieve's eyes fell, and she caught sight of the speaker. It was the white flash she had seen running through the shrubs in the past. More specifically, it was a cat-like creature with stark white fur like freshly fallen snow, and large orb-shaped eyes the color of blood. Long tassels of fur fell outside of its ears, and a ring of gold levitated around each tuft of fur- that's right, _levitated_. They floated in midair without any seeming attachment to anything. It smiled at Genevieve blankly, eyes never blinking. _Greetings, Genevieve! My name is Kyubey, and I'd like to make you a magical girl._ Its expression never changed as the words seemingly popped into existence inside Genevieve's head. _And yes, I'm speaking to you telepathically._ It said next, as if reading her mind.

"A... magical girl?" Genevieve parroted, not entirely sure that was she was seeing was real. "You mean like those girls they have in cartoons here in Japan? But.. They're not real. It's all make-believe... Isn't it?"

 _Oh no, Genevieve. Magical girls are quite real._ Kyubey's large, bushy tail flicked back and forth as he spoke, or rather _thought_ at her. _At the least, there is one type of magical girl that is real. The kind that make a contract with me, and risk their lives fighting horrifying creatures called witches in order to protect mankind from death and despair._ He said it all so fast that Genevieve's mind boggled just trying to keep up with the creature's train of thought. _And you, Genevieve Aldecott, have potential to become one, if you so choose!_

"Magical girls... Risking their lives... Fighting witches... All of this is pure nonsense. None of those things exist in real life." Genevieve retroactively realized that she didn't believe a word she was saying. Unless she had just suffered a nervous breakdown and was hallucinating- rather vividly, at that- then what was happening was indeed real, and there was actually a cat creature named Kyubey that turned ordinary girls like her into fantastical magicians who fight witches. "But why me? And why would I want to do any of that, to risk my life for humanity?"

 _Girls who possess potential to become magical girls are few and far between, and you are one of those rare girls. As such, I am entitled to seek you out and request you to make a contract._ Kyubey responded. _And the incentive for this contract is that it is mutually beneficial. When you become a magical girl, you are allowed to make one wish- one larger-than-life, causality-defying wish, for anything you desire!_ Swish, swish went Kyubey's tail. _For example, you could wish to be rich, or meet the man of your dreams, or get into any university that you desire._

A wish for anything she wanted. Genevieve's head spun as she considered the possibilities. She could wish to move back to America, or get her dad a job, or ace every test for the rest of her time in school. "You really mean _anything_ I want?" She asked. Kyubey nodded, his head bobbing up and down like a bobble-head. "I... I need to think. This is too much."

 _Of course._ Said Kyubey. _I will return at the end of the week. Perhaps you will have decided by then- otherwise, feel free to decline. This offer is entirely optional._ With a swish of his tail, the cat-creature spun on his heel and dashed into the shrubbery. By the time Genevieve blinked, he was gone, not even leaving footprints in the dirt behind.

"Anything I want..." She repeated to herself.

* * *

Her mother returned later that night, alone. "Your grandmother is going to be perfectly fine, Vivi. She... She just needs to rest a little is all, and then she'll be perfectly fine." She smiled weakly, tousling Genevieve's hair, her reassurances only marginally more reassuring than her father's. Her parents' voices were loud from their bedroom as Genevieve fell asleep that night.

The next few days went by like a blur. Genevieve drifted through classes, applying her still somewhat-limited understanding of Japanese to the best of her ability in a half-hearted effort to understand the subject material. The girls at school made a few more passes to interrogate her, then stayed away entirely. Had she not been so numb over the whole situation with Grandmother, Genevieve might've actually been hurt.

She visited the hospital for the first time three days after Grandmother had been admitted, with Mom at her side. The inside of the hospital was surprisingly inviting, with friendly nurses, wide hallways, and open windows letting in cool breezes in every room- nothing like the austere whiteness of hospitals back in America. A particularly chatty nurse led them through the winding halls to Grandmother's room, pursuing a continuous stream of dialogue with Genevieve's mother, who was more than happy to chat away to fill in the spaces left by Genevieve's sullen silence.

Grandmother was sitting in a reclining position in her bed when they found her, staring out the window at something Genevieve couldn't see from her spot at the door. "So much metal," Noriko commented sullenly, as if she hadn't heard them come in, "I suppose it would really kill those men in the lawmaker's houses if they bothered to put in a little green here and there." She turned in bed to face Genevieve and her mother, offering a weak smile. "Hello, daughter. Hello, Genevieve." After they both hugged her, difficult as it was what with her being unable to get up from ge bed properly, the group's attention was drawn back to the nurse as she cleared her throat.

"If it's alright with you all, I'd like to make an announcement." Said the nurse, clutching her clipboard to her chest. When no one objected or otherwise said anything, she continued. "Mrs. Atsuki's X-rays and medical scans have been cleared by our lab technicians. You'll be free to go home by the end of the week, after our doctors run a few more tests and figure out which drug to prescribe to help with your heart problem. Isn't that exciting?" Met with smiles and cheers, the nurse smiled, bowed slightly, and left the room.

"The end of this week, mother!" Aki cheered, clapping her hands. "Oh, isn't that wonderful, Vivi?" For once, Genevieve could agree with her. But something the nurse had said had collided with something in her mind, and she couldn't quite place it. Something about the end of the week...

 _I will return at the end of the week._

Genevieve gasped inwardly, hoping that neither Mom nor Grandmother had noticed it- thankfully, they were still entranced in their reverie at the good news. Her grandmother and Kyubey would be coming home on the same day- reality and fantasy colliding, as it were. Kyubey had made it sound like it was a one-time offer.

By the end of this week, Genevieve would have to decide on a wish.

* * *

The Witch's labyrinth was a block castle built by a giant's child. Enormous colourful arches, each the size of the Golden Gate Bridge, hung over Genevieve as she ran through a courtyard the size of a football stadium. Plants and sculptures made of more of the same primary-colored building blocks hung out of the gloom and miasma. Everywhere Genevieve looked, it was a garish combination of red, blue and yellow intermixed with dark clouds that restricted her vision.

Piercing this gloom was the Soul Gem, Genevieve's Soul Gen. Held in her right palm, it shone radiant beams into the darkness from its forest-green stone, ensconced in ribbons of gold. As she ran, the Soul Gem grew ever brighter, a sign that the Witch was nearing- if Genevieve found victory tonight, this would be her fifth successful Witch hunt. Despite the quiet of the courtyard, Genevieve kept on guard, her eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of the Witch's familiars, or perhaps even the Witch herself. They could be anywhere, ready to spring forth and initiate a surprise attack- Genevieve had sustained far too many bruises and scars from the same tactic in the past to distrust the possibility of it happening again now. Somewhere in the mist, Kyubey lurked as well, but for now Genevieve paid the rat no mind.

Genevieve snapped back to attention as an ominous chant began to fill her ears, seemingly coming from all directions. With a flash of emerald light, Genevieve transformed into her Magical Girl costume- a long green dress with numerous ruffles and frills, embroidered throughout with designs of roses and other flowers, all connected by a network of green shoots and thorns. Her normally loose, waist-length hair was bound into a tight braid by a net of green wires Genevieve liked to compare to vines, and her Soul Gem was nestled right in the center of the tangle, directly behind the back of her neck. Her regular sneakers were replaced by dusky red boots with slight heels. As Genevieve completed her transformation, she watched as the Witch's familiars formed all around her. They appeared out of the architecture itself, reforming sculptures, dropping from arches, or reshaping themselves from the floor themselves.

All of them possessed the same blocky textures and primary-color pallette scheme as the labyrinth itself, and they were styled after various figures from traditional medieval courts- knights and bishops, jesters and ladies-in-waiting. As more and more spawned, the nonsensical, wordless chant that permeated the labyrinth grew ever higher in volume and fervor. Genevieve braced herself as a phalanx of blocky knights assembled themselves before her, jousting-style lances at the ready. As one, they charged in Genevieve's direction, the sound of their feet striking the ground adding a rhythmic beat to the background chant.

Genevieve charged in return, summoning her weapons- a pair of wide, flat butterfly swords with singular curved edges and large wooden handles, each having more of the same flower designs that permeated her costume carved into the wood and burnished into the metal. Alone, the blades were sharp, but Genevieve could combine them into a larger-than-life set of gardening shears that could cut through just about anything. The metal sang a dirge of glorious combat as Genevieve lunged at the wall of incoming familiars. Launching herself into the air, Genevieve landed squarely on the lance of the central knight, swinging her blades outwards and decapitating the entire phalanx. They exploded into showers of tiny colourful blocks, as if shrunken down from the monsters that had spawned them. Genevieve paid the odd display no heed, already preparing herself for the next wave of enemies.

She brought both her blades down, cleanly bisecting a noble lady and a cardinal, both formed of red and blue blocks, from forehead to pelvis, before whirling with both her blades and carving through a giggling court fool who had thought to jump her from behind. Spinning, slicing and dicing, Genevieve cut down enemy after enemy as they rushed into her elaborate waltz of blades in a desperate charge to break her defenses. Fighting familiars was a delicate dance that Genevieve had not taken long in becoming an expert at. The hum of her blades provided a singing refrain against the ominous chant that pervaded every corner of the labyrinth. As Genevieve danced, a wintry wind swirled around her, blowing away familiars that her blades could not reach.

Her wish had been to make her grandmother's rose able to survive anything, even the harshness of the elements. As a result, Genevieve had been gifted to wield the force of nature's power herself.

The icy squall increased in strength and tempo as did Genevieve's whirling refrain of steel, the two forces working in harmony, creating an impenetrable wall for the veritable army of familiars. Despite their numbers, they displayed little inclination for tactics, preferring to charge her in an attempt to overwhelm her with sheer force. Genevieve was not about to let that happen. Her blades cut down scores of blocky knights, aristocrats, and gentry, and those that pierced this defense were knocked away by her personal winter squall, which had added a sizable torrent of snow to the blustering wind. To an outside observer, the battle would doubtlessly seem chaotic, but Genevieve was in absolute control. To prove her point, she swung her blades around in the direction of a particularly thick pack of familiars, sending forth her entire winter storm in one wave of cold and ice. The victims of this attack froze solid, and Genevieve carved through their ranks in three swift slashes. The few that survived this offensive scurried back into the darkness to regroup.

Catching her breath, Genevieve lowered her defenses for a moment, allowing her swords to dissolve into formless magical particles. The courtyard had fallen silent for a brief respite- she must have slain enough familiars to allow them to get the point, but that changed nothing if the Witch decided to escape amidst the confusion. Genevieve herself was also working on borrowed time- the excuse that she had joined an after-school gardening club would only hold water for so long, and it had already taken her a good hour to find this labyrinth. She would have to finish up as quickly as possible.

Recalling her swords, Genevieve ran the remainder of a courtyard, reaching the opposite end from where she'd started. An inexplicably normal-sized door awaited her amid all the bloated architecture that made up this labyrinth. Genevieve pushed the door open and found herself staring at a staircase heading upwards, composed of yet more of the enormous coloured blocks, each step the size of a city bus. With powerful magic-assisted jumps, Genevieve launched herself up the steps three at a time, heading towards the landing that awaited her far in the distance, every feet causing the chant to grow in volume. Familiars formed out of the floor and walls, but their numbers and the resistance they brought forward were both trivial, and Genevieve cut them down with ease. At the top of the steps was another human-sized door. Genevieve pushed it open, and found her quarry.

The room was a simply enormous hall, complete with columns, a long carpet that ran the length of the room, and stained glass windows, all formed of those ubiquitous blocks. The Witch was on the opposite end of the room, lounging on a throne for a 30-foot tall colossus. It was formed from a veritable cloud of colourful blocks, which as a whole roughly formed the silhouette of a queen in full regal dress, complete with a crown that levitated over her head. Noticing her presence, the Witch rose from her throne, each block moving forward at once in a cascade of color and movement. Twirling continuously as it's 'dress' spun around it in a circle, the Witch advanced on Genevieve as the chant that permeated the labyrinth hit fever pitch.

It made the first move. As the Witch twirled, multiple blocks detached from its body and hurled themselves through the air towards Genevieve. Swinging her blades, Genevieve hacked and slashed through the incoming projectiles, each one exploding harmlessly into a colourful cloud of smoke as she destroyed it. The smell of chalk filled Genevieve's nose as the collective pastel smog filled her vision. So thick was it that Genevieve was unable to see the incoming attack as she attempted to charge through the smoke. The Witch's 'leg' came flying out of the cloud, slamming into Genevieve, each individual block that composed it presenting a separate impact, to the point that it felt like being hit by a barrage of high-speed rocks. Genevieve was sent flying by the force of the blow into the wall behind her, producing a primary-coloured _poof_ of debris with the impact.

The chant was intersected by a high-pitched cackling as the Witch advanced on Genevieve, who grunted as she dragged herself out of the rubble. Launching herself at the Witch, Genevieve corkscrewed mid-air to evade the blocks it fired in response, and slashed through the Witch's body, cleanly bisecting it at the waist. Landing behind it, Genevieve turned on her heel, expecting to see the Witch's dissolving body- the exact same move had clinched her victory in several previous hunts. Instead, she got the eye-popping visual of the Witch's top half- which had fallen to the floor in the aftermath of her attack- levitate into the air and reattach itself to the bottom half before gyrating to face Genevieve once more, cackling all the while. So jarring was this sight that Genevieve failed to dodge as the Witch rushed forward, slamming into her with its entire body. Genevieve was once again sent flying backwards, torpedoing into the throne. Pain seized her body as her cracked and damaged ribs protested their continued abuse within her bruised chest. Genevieve knew that she probably wouldn't be able to stand if not for the vague 'improvements' Kyubey claimed came with the Magical Girl package.

She'd have to change tactics. Rising from the rubble of the throne, Genevieve took a deep breath as she gathered her magic. Giggling in a voice that sounded more like static electricity than human vocal cords, the Witch fired another barrage of blocks in her direction. Rather than face them head-on, Genevieve lept over the volley, crashing to the ground with titanic force as her magic began to build an earthquake in-the-making, splintering cracks beginning to form in the floor, walls, and columns as a minor quake rumbled through the hall. Pirouetting, the Witch swung her leg at Genevieve, who slashed clean through it, producing another burst of kinetic energy that shook the room once more. The leg reformed near-instantaneously, reattaching to the Witch's body as if nothing had ever happened, but more cracks spiderwebbed their way across the room as the earthquake continued. Seemingly realizing what was happening, the Witch sent her whole body at Genevieve, who jumped over the incoming attack with a surge of magical force before crashing to the ground in one final, earth-shaking impact.

The floor collapsed. With no place to stand, Genevieve and the Witch both descended into free-fall, plunging into a chasm of blocks that had no seeming bottom. Cackling wildly, the Witch fired flurry after flurry of blocks at Genevieve, but her aim was drastically off, and Genevieve barely had to shift her position to evade. Seizing her opponent's off-balance state, Genevieve locked her swords together, forming an enormous pair of shears, which grew even larger as she fed them a steady stream of magical power. Launching herself at the Witch with a burst of energy, Genevieve raised the shears wide, cleaving through the Witch's midsection. She fell apart, and with no way to reform without solid ground, the Witch dissolved into endless blocks that fell far, far below...

Both the chant and cackling ended. The Labyrinth dissolved, and Genevieve found herself standing where she'd started- in a derelict museum, long since starved of the donations that had kept it running. The Witch's Grief Seed, a perfectly rounded black orb with a spike on either end, rested on the ground before her. Genevieve concentrated as she used her Soul Gem to heal her injuries, then picked up the Grief Seed, instantly feeling better as wisps and streams of darkness ebbed from the Gem into the Seed. Once it was nearly full of corruption, she stopped, turning as Kyubey scampered out of the darkness to collect his prize.

 _Hello, Genevieve!_ He relayed in a faux-chipper tone, smiling happily as Genevieve tossed the Grief Seed into the waiting maw on his back. _That was an excellently done battle. You're growing quite well into your role as a Magical Girl, even faster than I had originally predicted._

Genevieve did little more than nod in response to the cat's praise. It hadn't taken her long to notice that Kyubey rarely- if ever- asked her about her actual physical well-being, or how she was feeling emotionally. He seemed infinitely more concerned with her ability to continuously slay more witches and harvest more Grief Seeds- for what purpose, Genevieve couldn't fathom- the cat didn't seem to gain any benefit from this agreement other than his seeming use of spent Grief Seeds as sustenance. Then again, a cat-like creature who approached random girls and bequeathed magical powers upon them in exchange for risking their lives to fight terrifying monsters probably wouldn't operate on nearly the same moral spectrum as ordinary humans did. "I won't be hunting Witches tomorrow, Kyubey. My parents are taking Grandmother out to dinner now that she's feeling a little better." She reported.

 _Understood, but do not dawdle in your duties for too long, Genevieve._ Kyubey said no more, and his never-blinking gaze followed her out of the museum.

* * *

The sun was setting as Genevieve made her way home through Grandmother's quiet suburban neighborhood. "Mom, Dad, I'm home!" She called as she stepped through the threshold, leaving her bag and shoes by the door. Dad wasn't home- probably at another job interview, he'd been going to a lot of those lately- but Mom was in the kitchen, making a late dinner for herself and Genevieve. Grandmother was nowhere in sight.

"Welcome home, Vivi." Said Mom, smiling at her as she came in and sat at the counter- the exact same chair Genevieve's dad had been sitting in that terrible day, though she tried her hardest not to think about that. "Did you have a good at your gardening club?" When Genevieve nodded and gave a vague 'mh-hmm' sound, she continued. "Your grandma went to sleep a little early tonight- she said she was feeling tired. She's sound asleep the last time I checked on her, but you can go in and take a peek if you like."

Genevieve nodded again, leaving her chair and walking down the hall to Grandmother's bedroom. Quietly, gingerly, she opened the door to the bedroom, hoping that the in-need-of-oil door hinge wouldn't give away her intrusion. It swung open without creaking, much to her relief. Grandmother was lying on her stomach, sound asleep in bed, wearing one of her old-timey nightgowns, covers pulled up to her neck to ward off the mid-autumn chill. In the fading pink-orange sunlight, Genevieve could see the rosebush climbing up to Grandmother's window. That rose would never die, never lose its petals, never be frozen by snow and blown away by wind. Her wish to Kyubey had made sure of that.

Thus had been the past week, and the weeks that would follow. When she wasn't helping out the family, Genevieve threw herself into Witch hunting, slaughtering the abominations and using their Grief Seeds to purify her Soul Gem. Kyubey began to accompany her on less and less of her hunts, sometimes appearing a day or more later to collect her spent Grief Seeds. The rat remained eerily quiet on what exactly he was using the Seeds for, but Genevieve had stopped caring a long time ago. All of this was for her Grandmother, after all.

As for Grandmother, she had recovered somewhat since the heart attack and subsequent hospital visit- she wasn't back to 100% health, or even where she'd been when Genevieve's family had moved to Mitakhaira, but she was better. She still cooked and cleaned occasionally, but not quite as much as she originally had. Genevieve had heard her parents talking about it in hushed tones behind doors they assumed were soundproof more than once. But even on the days when Grandmother was bedridden, she still stared fondly at her rosebush, which was growing bigger and brighter than ever. "It's never grown like this," she'd said more than once to Genevieve, "Have you been putting something special into the soil?"

Genevieve would smile and nod, because it was technically true. And then she would go off to school, learning her lessons and practicing her Japanese. In the evening, she would hunt Witches, then come home and tell her parents some white lie about where she'd been, while they'd smile and nod and offer their own lies about Grandmother's condition (still improving!). In general, Genevieve was just so sick and tired of the lies- tired of her parents' false smiles and empty reassurances, tired of her classmates' fake, vapid lives, tired of the endless line of doctors and medical technicians and hospice nurses, who'd smile and tell her that her grandma was fine, just fine. In the end, Grandmother was the only one that was always honest. And thus Genevieve did all that she did for her.

Life was good for a few months. Her Japanese improved, and her first report card from school came back with a steady array of above-average to excellent scores. Dad found a job, and Mom got a raise at hers. Genevieve brought in the last of the autumn harvest, which produced an excellent fruit tart.

It was the middle of December when it all went wrong a second time.

* * *

It was a Thursday afternoon, right after school- she had gotten a perfect score on a test, and a boy had actually asked her to a dance that was happening the next week. Genevieve knew what had happened before she even opened the door to the house. The car was missing, and all the rooms in the house were dark. Her father's midday meal lay half-eaten on the table. There was no sound but Genevieve's own beating heart and the rush of blood in her ears. Even the air seemed unable to convey any form of energy to the dead house.

Genevieve was in her room, lying on her back numbly on her bed, when her parents came home that night. Neither of them bothered to come up to see how she was doing, both just sitting in the kitchen downstairs and talking quietly. _Maybe they're finally as tired of the lies as I am_ , Genevieve thought. She barely even tried to eavesdrop like she usually did, but the message was clear: Grandmother was going to be in the hospital for a good long time.

When she thought they had fallen asleep, Genevieve rolled over and cried into her pillow until her throat was hoarse.

* * *

Winter came. The last surviving plants in the garden died, and so did Grandmother.

Genevieve was the only one home when the call from the hospital came- it was a school holiday, and her mother was out shopping, her dad at work. " _We regret to inform you_ ," the answering machine droned in its lifeless monotone, " _Noriko Atsuki passed away five minutes ago from cardiac arrest. Doctors were unable to resuscitate. We apologize for your loss_."

The next thing she knew, Genevieve was out in the garden. Snow was falling, and a thin layer had already gathered on the ground and among her bare toes. By all rights, she should've been freezing, but Genevieve was so numb she barely even felt a thing. Another helpful 'improvement' from being a Magical Girl, she supposed.

Why was she even out here? Genevieve hadn't been thinking when her feet had been moving, and now she was standing amid the frozen and dead remains of Grandmother's beloved garden. She had cleared away all of the big stuff days ago; there wasn't a single plant in sight. Except for the rosebush. Even now, caked in snow, it still was blooming and gorgeous. _This_ was what she had wished for. A stupid plant that ultimately hadn't factored into Grandmother's chance of survival one bit. That stupid, stupid...

With a scream of primal despair, Genevieve attacked the plant with a mix of desperation and fury. She ripped and tore and slashed with all her might, but the magic that kept the rosebush alive held strong. Shoots regrew as she tore them off, petals shook themselves back to full luster as she smashed their bulbs. Despite the futility, Genevieve continued to brutalize the immortal plant, attacking and destroying until her hands were covered with bleeding gashes from the bush's thorns. The blood leaked into the snow on the ground below, producing an odd white-and-crimson mix that might've resembled a candy cane.

Unlike the first time, Genevieve wasn't startled when Kyubey appeared out of nowhere behind her.

 _You have neglected your witch-hunting duties for nearly a week now, Genevieve_. Kyubey said as Genevieve turned to look at him. His white fur was as pristine as the fresh snow he stood in, and his tail flicked back and forth as he stared at her. _Your Soul Gem must have grown quite dark by this point_.

On reflex, Genevieve summoned her Soul Gem to her open palm. The emerald-green gem swam with dark, foreboding clouds of miasma, and the normally bright shine it produced was reduced to a weak trickle of light that occasionally flickered out entirely. This was by far the worst state Genevieve had ever seen it in, but at the same time she just couldn't bring herself to care. "I haven't exactly been in the mood to go out Witch-hunting lately, Kyubey." She replied flatly. Genevieve felt as dead as Grandmother's garden. She couldn't even muster the anger that had blazed through her only a scant few minutes before. Everything was... numb.

 _I suppose your recently deceased grandmother may have played a part in your recent lack of activity._ Kyubey stated with an utter lack of inflection- more like commenting on a live specimen in a lab than attempting to comfort a despairing friend. _Though I have never quite understood the human tendency to grow saddened by the death of others. After all, most resources on this planet are limited, and with one more person gone, there's more to go around._ When Genevieve didn't respond, Kyubey tilted his head to the side, in a gesture that was probably meant to convey curiosity. _I wonder if you are angry with me? It is true, after all, that I granted you a wish that was ultimately useless when I could've wished your grandmother back to health if you so chose._

"Angry?" Genevieve asked. "Why would I be angry with you? You gave me what I wanted. What I wanted just wasn't the right thing." _Drip, drip_ went her blood against the snow at her feet. "It's funny, you know? I tried so hard to help my family- my grandmother, my parents, even myself. But even though I killed lots of Witches and probably saved lots of people in the process, my own family didn't benefit one bit in the end."

 _I see_. Kyubey responded. Another dead silence hung between the two for a moment. _You and I will not be seeing each other again, I think._ With one last flick of his tail, Kyubey turned and vanished into the white-out.

Something deep in Genevieve's mind told that that would, indeed, be their last meeting.

* * *

The chatter of mall customers was a dull roar in Genevieve's ears. She sat in the center of the mall food court, staring at nothing. All around her, people moved around, all of them shopping, talking, eating, laughing. Enjoying life. Genevieve felt like she _should_ have been angry at them, for enjoying their lives when hers was so terrible. But even now, in her depths of despair, her logical side kept her from mustering the energy. These were just ordinary people living ordinary lives. She had no actual reason to be angry at them.

It was the day after Grandmother had died- eighteen hours, thirty-seven hours, and eight minutes, if one was being more precise. To anyone who was asking, her parents had taken her to the mall to purchase a dress for Grandmother's funeral later this week. More realistically, they had come here to lose her in a crowd of bright, smiling people. They'd never say it to her face, but Genevieve knew that they were uncomfortable with her. She hadn't cried since Noriko had died; not even once. There were no tears left to shed, it seemed. Genevieve found it quietly ironic that she felt like crying because she _couldn't_ cry.

No. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't just _sit here_ anymore. Genevieve rose from her chair and pushed into the pack of people, ignoring their cries of anger as she shoved past them. They barely even registered in her clouded mind. She pushed past normal people and their normal concerns, walking aimlessly through the maze, passing past bright stores and smiling people. At one point she thought she might've heard her mother calling to her, but Genevieve ignored her.

She moved into a less crowded area of the mall, where people talked quietly or sat on benches going over their purchases. To her left was a darkened hallway- _This section of the mall is under construction_. _Customers and patrons please do not enter_ , a sign at its entrance read. Genevieve walked right past the warning sign, barely even reading it. Her footsteps patterned quietly on the battered linoleum floor as she descended into the darkness.

It wasn't long before Genevieve entered an area of the mall devoid of both people and light, save for the scant pillars of sunlight coming in periodically through holes in the ceiling. Planks, cinder blocks, and construction equipment strew the dark hallways. Dark shadows danced in her vision, Genevieve wondered briefly if they were merely phantoms in her eyes or hallucinations. Both, perhaps.

Need light. She summoned her Soul Gem to her hand, then stared down at it. The gem no longer produced a brilliant green light; it no longer produced even a trickle. The Soul Gem was thoroughly corroded with dark clouds of entropy. Not a single ray of light shone through. That was the end of that, then. Her Soul Gem was totally dark.

 _Crack_.

"I just-" Genevieve began, then stopped as the words died in her throat.

 _Snap_.

"I-" she stopped again. There was nothing left to be said, after all.

With a final sound like breaking glass, the Soul Gem in her palm shattered, and Genevieve Aldecott was no more.

* * *

The new garden was nice. Roses bloomed everywhere, and she could make more with a flick of her hand. And no more working and toiling in the garden alone- she had little helpers now; they had Dad's mustache and Mom's bright laugh. Most days, she could just lounge on her chair and let them handle most of the work, with their sharp shears and barbed chains. Sometimes they even caught a stray intruder and ground them up into fertilizer for the roses.

The roses were all that mattered, anyway. And no one was ever going to touch them again.

No one.

* * *

 **Hey all. Imageination here. This is my second (read: non-Worm) fic, and I'm pretty excited to be releasing the first chapter.**

 **With the revelation that magical girls are actually witches, we fanfictioners (that's a word, right?) have gained the domain of writing about the origins and lives of the witches that serve as PMMM's primary antagonists. After reading "Selling Your Soul For Cake" (An excellent fic that tells the origins of Nagisa Momoe), I am endeavoring to write my own take on these witches, from Gertrud right up to Walspurginacht. I'm leaving out only Charlotte (the aforementioned story tells it better than I ever could), Oktavia, and Kriemhild Gretchen (for obvious reasons).**

 **I do not intend to keep up a schedule for this fanfic. The next chapter will come when it does. I always appreciate comments and criticisms, so feel free to stop by and say your piece. See ya!**

 **Next up: Kirsten, the Box Witch**


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